Of Assumptions and Snogging
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: Sherlock assumes he and Molly are in a relationship. When she informs him otherwise, Sherlock has to figure out a way to sweep her off her feet. Post-TFP. Fluffy, Rom-Com!Sherlolly feels. I do not own the characters; Sir ACD & Moftiss/BBC do. Dedicated to writingwife-83.
1. Sherlock Deduces Incorrectly

"Good morning, darling," Sherlock smiled as he swept into the lab. Molly was concentrating on the slide under the microscope until her concentration was broken by the feel of his full lips against the side of her neck. She immediately jerked away and a flash of confusion and pain washed over her. It had only been a week since the phone call, and though they had discussed the event of that night involving his sister, Molly thought it was clear she wished to only move on from it.

"What are you doing?" she asked with annoyance, despite the fact she was still in love with him.

"Snogging you," Sherlock replied matter-of-factly. "I thought it was fairly obvious." He paused a moment before handing her a to-go cup. "I bought you coffee, just the way you like it."

"Thanks," she muttered, accepting the cup hesitantly. Molly took a sip and turned back to her microscope, attempting to ignore the strange greeting she had received. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy having his lips on her, but the pain of the phone call was still fresh in her mind. She was still wondering if he had really meant it, but something in the way his voice caressed those precious three words the second time told her everything she needed to know. But still, she wouldn't let him just jump into this. She wanted to be chased a little.

Sherlock broke her thought process as he extended a finger, placing it beneath her chin and bringing her lips to meet hers. Molly reciprocated for a moment before pushing him away gently.

"What's wrong? Why don't you want to kiss me? Are you breaking up with me?" Sherlock rambled on, his calm tone laced with panic. She looked up at him and his face looked like that of a puppy that had been kicked.

"Sherlock, we're not even in a relationship," Molly informed him with a small laugh.

"But I love you and you love me," Sherlock told her. "Doesn't that warrant a relationship?" Molly's breath caught in her throat at how simply he said the words with ease. Then she laughed, harder than she had laughed in months. "Molly, why are you laughing at me?"

"B-because, Sher-Sherlock," she burst out in giggles, tears streaming down her face, "you assumed we were already in a relationship." Another lighthearted laugh escaped her lips.

"Hmm," he growled in defeat. He knew he had to do something. If they weren't together, then he needed to woo her. Sherlock knew exactly who to ask.

* * *

"Sherlock, what is it? This better be as urgent as you say it is," John told him, entering 221B with Rosie in his arms.

"I need…advice," Sherlock lowered his head with embarrassment. John waited for him to elaborate.

"Advice on?" John asked.

"Sweeping Molly Hooper off her feet," Sherlock sighed. "Apparently, we aren't in a relationship as of yet and I need to do something to make it happen." John chuckled heartily.

"God, Sherlock, just because Eurus forced that exchange doesn't mean you two are automatically together," John laughed. "Look, have you ever taken note on the kinds of things she enjoys doing? Her hobbies?"

"I don't suppose you have a better idea?" Sherlock asked Rosie who only gurgled in response.

"Do something unique," Mrs. Hudson piped in, after eavesdropping from Sherlock's kitchen. "Why don't you really sweep her off her feet?" She gave Sherlock a hinting look. It took a moment before the perfect idea crossed his mind.

"She has a lovely dress in the back of her closet that I distinctly remember her wishing she had a reason to wear it," Sherlock remarked.

"Okay, do I even want to know how you know that?" John asked.

"Probably not," Sherlock countered with a wave of his hand.

"That's the way to go," Mrs. Hudson praised him before leaving.

"So, what is it exactly you're going to do?" John inquired.

"I'm going to take her out for a night of dancing," Sherlock smiled.

 **Author's Note:** thanks to writingwife-83 for allowing me to use the prompt idea she had! Chapter two is quickly on its way! :)


	2. The Thrill of the Chase

The next day, Sherlock decided to, albeit nervously, ask Molly out for the upcoming Friday. John said he would wait outside in the hall while Sherlock swung open the doors. Molly was preparing for an autopsy.

"Hello, Sherlock," Molly smiled.

"Hello," he replied, returning a small smile.

"Did you need something?" she asked. It was then Sherlock went into what they all liked to call buffering mode.

* * *

Greg strolled down toward the morgue to find John Watson with his ear pressed against the door.

"Listening for heartbeats?" Greg joked with a chuckle.

"Shh," John told him. "Sherlock's asking out Molly."

"Really? Well, it's about time," Greg mused quietly. It wasn't long before the detective inspector had his ear pressed up to the door on John's left.

"Okay, I already have to deal with one freak. What the hell are you two doing?" Sally inquired, Anderson by her side.

"Shhh," Greg and John insisted.

"Sherlock's asking Molly out," John told them. Anderson and Sally looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders, eyes wide.

"If ya can't beat 'em, join 'em," Anderson smirked. The other door had the ears of Sally Donovan and Philip Anderson pressed against it.

* * *

"Sherlock?" Molly called to him with concern. It was another moment before he blinked rapidly and began to speak again.

"I need to go," he said quickly.

"Go? Go where? Didn't you need something?" Molly asked.

"Need more data; going to clue for looks. I mean look for clues, yeah, that," Sherlock stumbled out. Just then, the morgue doors were pushed open with force as the eavesdroppers fell to the ground on top of each other. The pressure they were applying caused the doors to give. Sherlock's neck flushed. "Yep, I'm leaving now, bye Molly." Sherlock merely stepped over the nosy group of people and made his way out of the hospital as quickly as possible.

"Do I even want to know?" Molly asked, stifling a laugh.

"Best not," John croaked out as he got up to follow Sherlock.

* * *

Being back at 221B, Sherlock paced through the sitting room, unsure of what to do. He was obviously frustrated and embarrassed over the day's failed attempt. Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs with Rosie in her arms and John was coming up the stairs behind her.

"Shame on you, John, for embarrassing him," she scolded. "I'm sure it's hard enough for him to navigate this area, isn't that right, dear?"

"I don't understand," Sherlock groaned. "She knows I love her and she loves me. Why do I have to go through all this bloody trouble?"

"Mate, you need to get your head out of your arse for once," John told him. Mrs. Hudson glared at him like the second mother she was to him and Sherlock.

"Sherlock, dear, think of this as a case," Mrs. Hudson reasoned.

"How can I think of this as a case? There's hardly a criminal to catch," Sherlock grumbled.

"Not a criminal, no, but a lovely girl," she smiled. "What do you love most about your cases? The thrill of the chase, correct?" Sherlock nodded. "Molly wants to be chased after. That way, you both get a bit of a thrill from it."

"I see," Sherlock's eyes widened with realization. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Hudson." He kissed her cheek chastely. "Here's to plan B."

* * *

Molly Hooper arrived at her flat from a long shift at work. She felt worn down to the bone. After taking a shower and wrapping herself up in her bubblegum pink dressing gown, she trudged to her bedroom, prepared for a good night's sleep. She curled up under her cozy duvet and turned on her side, facing her nightstand. There, she noticed a small card with a message printed on it by typewriter.

 **I could lose myself in those big brown eyes of yours.**

 **-SH**

Molly smiled to herself as the message made her heart flutter. It wasn't hard to fall into a deep sleep that night, dreaming of her consulting detective.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Poor Sherlock...at least the little note did well for him. Reviews are like cookies to me...I need them to live lol.


	3. Sweet Serenade

The lab was full of bustling scientists and doctors the next day. Molly was on her lunch break, sitting at a small cleared off lab table with Meena, who decided to pay a visit.

"What's so interesting that you keep glancing at it?" Meena asked, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Hmm?" Molly looked up from the little card in her wallet phone case. Meena raised her eyebrows in anticipation. "Well, the truth is, Sherlock is pursuing a relationship," she paused, "with me."

"Get out," Meena gasped with a wide smile. "It's about bloody time!" Molly giggled at her friend's reaction.

* * *

"What to do next," Sherlock mused, his hands steepled beneath his chin. He glanced at his violin, then towards the music stand where his newly finished composition sat. It was simply titled, _Molly_. He had even written a short, lyrical song aside from the violin piece.

"What are you thinking?" John asked, Rosie bouncing on his knee. Sherlock ignored him and looked straight to Rosie.

"Do you think your Aunt Molly would love it?" Sherlock asked his goddaughter in a playful tone. Rosie giggled and the consulting detective had his answer.

"Oh, okay, my opinion doesn't matter, I see," John mumbled, though he had to admit he enjoyed his best friend's interactions with Rosie.

"The game is on!" Sherlock exclaimed, grabbing his violin, not bothering with his coat and scarf. John took out his phone to text Greg who was already at the hospital.

 **Now would be a great time to take a video of whatever Sherlock's about to do. JW**

* * *

Greg spotted Sherlock as he hurried to the lab and followed suit. He would make sure to capture this next momentous event. The lab doors swung open and everyone immediately stopped what they were doing as Sherlock positioned his violin. He stepped closer to the lab table Molly and Meena sat at. He said nothing but began to play the sweetest melody she had ever heard. It gave off emotions such as his pining and love for the petite pathologist.

Molly took a sharp intake of breath as his blue-green eyes pierced hers with an intensity she hadn't seen before. His gaze pinned her in place as he continued to glide his bow across the strings. She couldn't look away, as she felt like she was drowning in him. Her face flushed as she knew everyone in the lab was focused on them. As the melody came to an end, Sherlock pursed his lips as if he was about to tell her something.

Everyone waited to see what would happen next. It was a sight to watch such a development between the consulting detective and their head pathologist. Greg continued to record the silence on his phone. Sherlock set his violin on the lab table and extended his hand to take Molly's in his, lifting it to place a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. She wrapped her fingers around his tightly, still unable to look away from his longing gaze. And then he was singing softly to her, but loud enough for all to hear. She did not recognize the song and knew he must have written it.

 _Well, I've never been a man of many words._

 _And there's nothing I could say that you haven't heard._

 _But I'll sing you love songs 'til the day I die._

 _The way I'm feeling, I can't keep it inside._

Molly felt her breath being taken away. Sherlock Holmes was actually serenading her. It took a moment before she remembered to breathe. When he finished, he cleared his throat and took a deep, shaky breath.

"Molly, would you possibly consider going somewhere with me this Friday?" Sherlock finally managed to get out. His anxiety levels were high and Molly could practically feel it coming off of him.

"I would love to, Sherlock," Molly smiled. He let out a breath he had been holding for far too long with relief. She rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek. It took all of her strength to not snog him senselessly right then and there. "I look forward to it." And then she was walking out of the lab to get some fresh air as the room erupted into applause. Greg was quite happy with the goldmine of all videos. He then sent it to John's phone, captioned with, _you've gotta see this_.

* * *

Sherlock returned to his flat to find Mrs. Hudson hovering over John's shoulder, their eyes glued to the phone screen. He could hear himself singing from the speaker.

"I can't stop watching this," John spoke with amazement. He looked up at Sherlock. "You actually did it. You bloody did it."

"Yes, what's so surprising about that?" Sherlock snapped with annoyance. "How did you get that?" He slipped the phone out of John's hand and saw the name of the culprit who recorded it. "I need to have a word with Lestrade about this one day."

"Hey, to be fair, I told him to do it," John chuckled.

"Lighten up, dear, it was a lovely thing you did for Molly," Mrs. Hudson praised him. "Now you'll always have that moment preserved for the two of you."

"I suppose you're right," Sherlock sighed. He looked over at Rosie who was asleep in John's lap. Sitting down in his chair, Sherlock found himself raising his fingers to brush his cheek where the feel of Molly's lips still lingered, smiling to himself. "Actually, you were completely right, Mrs. Hudson. It is thrilling to chase after her."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** the song is called I Can't Keep It Inside and it is sung by Benedict Cumberbatch in the movie, August: Osage County. Look it up on Youtube if you don't know it already! I hope this wasn't too OOC for Sherlock but looking back on one of my fave rom-coms, 10 Things I Hate About You, I had to include a serenade lol.


	4. A Taste of the Future

"Sherlock?" Molly called out, entering 221B. "I brought the thumbs you asked for." She looked around but saw no sign of him. _That's strange_ , she thought. Shrugging her shoulders, Molly ventured into the kitchen to store the bag of thumbs in the refrigerator. As she closed the fridge door, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist from behind.

"Hello, Molly," Sherlock breathed into her ear. The warmth of his breath caused goosebumps to form all over. _He's trying to kill me_ , Molly mused. She didn't want to give in so easily, but he was making it exceptionally difficult. There was a moment she considered to cease the chase she had him on mostly due to the stressful day she had at work.

As if he read her mind, Sherlock pulled back and turned her to face him. He said nothing more but took her hand and walked her over to the sofa.

"I should probably go," Molly said quietly.

"Please sit down and relax for a bit, Molly. You've had a bad day," he deduced.

"You noticed that, huh?" Molly laughed half-heartedly. She planted herself next to him, sitting ramrod straight until Sherlock lifted her slightly, pulling her into his arms. Her body relaxed immediately at the feel of his gentle hands hugging her to him.

"I've enjoyed my pursual of you, Molly Hooper, though I am not done yet," Sherlock smirked. He began to run his fingers through her hair after slipping the elastic from it. Molly had no idea how he knew she loved to have her hair brushed like that; how it made her feel at ease.

"Better not be," Molly teased playfully. She heard Sherlock let out a low chuckle that warmed her heart.

"I promise," Sherlock told her, "but with your permission, I want to put a pause on it to be your boyfriend in this moment. I want to take care of you." Molly's eyes welled up and her heart felt so full.

"Okay," she conceded, "just for this moment, but afterwards, the game is back on." A real light-hearted laugh erupted from the two of them at her phrasing.

"I love you so much, you know that?" Sherlock whispered, brushing his lips lightly against the shell of her ear.

"I know," she replied. He knew Molly wasn't quite ready to say the words again but it didn't matter. Sherlock knew she loved him even without her voicing it.

"Do you want to talk about your bad day?" Sherlock questioned.

"Not really. I just want a distraction right now," Molly responded.

"Excited for our third date?" Sherlock asked. Molly's brows furrowed.

"Third!? What do you mean third?" she inquired with a laugh. "What were the other dates?"

"I bought us takeway when I stayed at your flat when John and Mary were on their sex holiday. That was our second date," Sherlock insisted.

"Second date? Sherlock, what was the first?" Molly asked with confusion.

"Our day of solving crimes together, don't you remember?" he informed her. "Though, finding out you were engaged put a damper on things."

"Oh, Sherlock," Molly's face softened. "I didn't realize." Her heart ached for him as she finally realized he had had his taste of unrequited love, though he didn't know that she was just burying her feelings for him while she was with Tom. It had felt real enough to hurt him though. She tilted her head up to press a soft quick kiss on his lips. When she pulled back, Sherlock seemed to be a bit dazed, which elicited a small giggle from Molly.

"Are we in a relationship now?" Sherlock spoke breathlessly; hope lingered in his cerulean eyes. She had drowned in those eyes several times and this moment was not an exception.

"Not yet, Sherlock," she told him.

"I hope you don't think I would ever stop persuing you even once we enter a relationship," Sherlock told her. "I could never stop leaving you notes to make you smile. I would serenade you anytime. I would always make sure you felt wanted every single day because I do want you, Molly. My Molly."

"I want you too and it won't be long now," Molly assured him. "Just wait until after our date on Friday." Sherlock nodded at her request. He understood her fears, though she never voiced them. "You never did tell me where you were taking me. I need to find something to wear after all."

"Wear the dress," Sherlock told her. "The purple one you never had the chance to wear."

"You're still not telling me what we're doing, are you?" Molly asked.

"Nope," Sherlock grinned, popping the 'p.' He hugged her closer against his chest. "Are you feeling any less stressed?"

"I'm much better now, thank you, Sherlock," Molly told him. He kissed the tip of her nose affectionately.

"Anything you need, Molly, I'm here for you, always," he told her.

"Same to you," Molly smiled. "I should get going though; I need to feed Toby." Sherlock unwound his arms from her so she could stand up. "Really, thank you. It was nice to get a taste of the Sherlock Holmes boyfriend experience."

"The game is on," Sherlock winked before Molly turned to leave the flat. When the downstairs door closed, he felt her absence immediately. Sherlock wished he could've held her just a little bit longer. He wanted nothing more than to give her every ounce of love that poured from his heart for her. The fears she held inside was an obstacle he wanted to vanquish. He didn't want her to be scared to love him. These are the thoughts that swirled around in his mind for the rest of the night.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** No rom-com is incomplete without some sort of dilemma. In this case, it's Molly's fears. Don't worry, the comedy will return in the next chapter, I promise.


	5. Hashtag Married

**Trust me, if you don't know what it means, you'll need this lol. (sorry for my southern slang)**

 **-Catty-Cornered (adverb/adjective): means, diagonally.**

* * *

Molly arrived at Bart's early Thursday morning. Arriving at her locker, she opened it to stuff her bag away only to find a coffee and a paper bag on the top shelf with a note stapled to it.

 _Thought I'd bring you breakfast. I know how you like to have more of a dessert item. I would've waited for you but I've just gotten a case. I hope you have a better day, darling._

 _With all my love,_

 _Sherlock_

She took the bag down and opened it to see its contents. In the plastic takeaway container, there was a warm slice of apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. Molly smiled to herself over the sweet gesture. She tossed her bag in the locker, took the coffee in hand along with her breakfast and went to eat at her desk. Slipping her phone out of her pants pocket, she typed out a quick text.

 **I'm already having a better day. Thank you for breakfast, Sherlock. MH**

A moment later, her phone pinged.

 **I'm glad. You're very welcome. Will see you in the morgue later. SH**

 **Go solve a murder for me :) MH**

Molly decided it was already looking to be a much better day than before.

* * *

"And so the nearly unidentifiable toxin still remains in his bloodstream," Molly explained.

"A fascinating and rare toxin that is only indigenous to Asia. It was obviously Mr. Kingston as he has ties to the company's Asian partners and was threatened by the now deceased man before us," Sherlock continued. Greg Lestrade and John Watson just looked between their two friends as they continued to solve the crime together.

"There was an altercation as well, judging by the nail marks on his left arm," Molly informed them, "suggesting that Mr. Kingston grabbed him forcefully to keep him from reporting the –"

"Embezzlement," Sherlock and Molly said in unison. They gave each other small, encouraging smiles before getting back to business again. John and Greg's faces showed their amusement at the scene that played out before them.

"What? What is it?" Sherlock asked them as Molly began to fill out paperwork.

"Nothing, mate, just uh, brilliant," John smiled.

"Quite," Sherlock agreed arrogantly. He noticed the slight glare Molly gave him. "I mean, thank you, John." Greg stepped out into the hall and John followed on his heels.

"Eh, those two," Greg began, "do they seem a bit—"

"Married? Oh, definitely," John laughed.

"Thought it was just me," Greg chuckled. It was then Sherlock joined them in the hall.

"Don't you have a killer to catch, Lestrade?" the consulting detective snapped in annoyance.

"I was waiting on you," Lestrade countered.

"Go without me, I've got another pressing matter," Sherlock told him. Greg and John shared a look of confusion before the detective inspector went on his way.

"And what pressing matter is this?" John asked. "It wouldn't happen to have to do with Molly, would it?" Sherlock only smirked in response.

* * *

Molly sat at an outdoor table with Meena at a little café for lunch. Her friend was attempting to pry details about the date tomorrow night.

Sherlock Holmes was seated at a table catty-cornered from them, wearing a simple disguise of dark sunglasses, an actual pair of jeans with a white cotton t-shirt and a black flat cap. He was just close enough to hear their conversation, hoping to get inside her head a bit; to see what she's like when he's not around.

"Do you even know where he's taking you?" Meena asked before promptly taking a sip of her tea.

"No idea," Molly shrugged, "but that's one of the things I find endearing about him."

"The fact he doesn't communicate?" Meena joked.

"No," Molly laughed, "it's the spontaneity of it all. Well, it's spontaneous to me anyway. I just love the adventurous feeling of not knowing." Her eyes flicked over to his table, and much to Sherlock's relief, they held no recognition of him.

"What did he tell you then?" Meena questioned.

"He just told me to wear that purple dress in the back of my closet," Molly replied, taking a bite of her salad. A moment of silence passed over them before Molly stood. "Excuse me a moment." Meena's eyes followed the direction Molly was walking.

"Sherlock," Molly said through her teeth, preparing to chastise him. "What the hell are you doing here?" _Ah, so she did recognize me_ , Sherlock thought.

"Having lunch," he answered nonchalantly. "I thought it was fairly obvious." His smirk almost made her crack. Almost.

"I meant why are you eavesdropping? I know that you are, so don't deny it," Molly huffed, narrowing her eyes.

"I wanted to get to know you better," Sherlock told her.

"We've known each other for years and you've deduced practically everything about me," Molly argued. "What more could you possibly need to know?"

"I was curious to see what you were like when you thought I wasn't around; the quirks you might hide from me but not from others. You always continue to surprise me, Molly Hooper," Sherlock explained. "Though, it's also possible that I felt I might have been doing something wrong and figured you would discuss such things with your friend."

"You could've just talked to me," Molly said calmly. "You haven't done anything wrong." She paused. "Well, except maybe this, but in your own strange way, it's kind of sweet."

"Sorry," Sherlock said guiltily.

"It's alright," Molly assured him, her fingers brushing his. She slipped off his glasses and hat, setting his pretty eyes and curly hair free. From afar, Meena's jaw dropped in disbelief at the sight of Sherlock Holmes.

"It wasn't the best disguise," Sherlock chuckled.

"Oh, I don't know, the casual look works for you just as much as your usual style," Molly flirted. Her face was now a mere two inches from his. Unable to resist the natural pull she had on him, Sherlock leaned in for a kiss only for Molly to pull away.

"That's not fair," Sherlock whined.

"All's fair in love and war, Sherlock," Molly laughed. "Don't be sad. Here." She left a longer than normal, lingering kiss on his cheek. "I've got to get back to work. I'll see you tomorrow."

He watched as Molly left with Meena, amazed by the fact she found his particular brand of affection to be charming.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** thoughts? are y'all ready for the big date? will Molly ever say those three words again? will Shelby ever stop asking you questions? lol


	6. The Big Date

**Disclaimer:** Even though I can dance, I can't, for the life of me, write it out. I hope y'all are able to picture it in your mind.

There is a mix for this chapter available on 8tracks, under my username, simplyshelbs16xoxo.

* * *

John walked into 221B with Rosie in his arms.

"Where is that bloody shirt?" Sherlock groaned in frustration from his bedroom. A pile of clothes was continuing to be built up on his bed as he threw items behind him haphazardly.

"Which shirt?" John asked, shifting Rosie.

"The aubergine one. Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock called out.

"Stop your shouting dear, I had it dry cleaned with my things," Mrs. Hudson told him, his shirt in her possession.

"Ah, thank you," Sherlock smiled in relief. He shut the door on them so he could get ready.

"He seems a bit nervous," Mrs. Hudson spoke in a low voice to John.

"That's an understatement," John told her. "Just this morning, he was pacing constantly. He'd stop every now and then to play the composition he wrote for Molly but then the anxiety would creep in again."

"The poor dear," Mrs. Hudson sympathized. "He shouldn't be so worried, though. Molly is crazy about him; has been for a long time."

"I think that's why he's nervous," John explained. "He's afraid of disappointing her, I think."

"I can hear you," Sherlock shouted before opening the door. "Well?" He was dressed in his usual suit attire with the pop of color from his aubergine button up.

"You look fine, Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson encouraged with a smile. Sherlock looked to John.

"It'll be just fine," John nodded. "Just have fun with her. Don't worry about perfection."

"It has to be perfect," Sherlock insisted.

"Sherlock, do you honestly think Molly wants perfection? She loves you, mate, the good and the bad. The flaws you have? She loves those too. Perfection is boring," John told him. His best friend's words seemed to have restored some of his confidence.

"What do you think, Rosie?" Sherlock spoke softly to his goddaughter. She lurched to reach out to her godfather with extended arms. John passed her into Sherlock's arms. He hugged her to him, placing a kiss on the top of her head full of blonde curls. "Wish me luck." With that, she was passed back to John and Sherlock was out the door.

* * *

Molly inspected herself in the full length mirror on the inside of her closet door. She turned every which way and that. Her purple dress nearly matched Sherlock's aubergine shirt. It was knee-length with an A-line cut. The chiffon and lace material was lovely as was the pleated sweetheart neckline with the lace overlay. Sherlock would be there any moment, she knew, so Molly ventured to search for her black, open-toed, three inch heels. They were the most comfortable heels she owned. As she continued to dig through her closet, a knock at the door was heard.

"Just come in, Sherlock, it's unlocked," she called out from her bedroom. "I'll be out in a moment." He did as she said and sat himself down on her sofa. His heart was pounding in his chest, or he thought it was until she appeared before him and his heart was soaring. He took in the sight of her and was secretly pleased she chose to keep her hair down in loose waves that cascaded over her shoulders. He stood immediately, continuing to drink her in.

"Molly," he breathed out in a way that caused her cheeks to heat up. It made her feel better to notice his neck seemed just as flushed. "You look—" _incredible, amazing, beautiful, lovely, sexy, pretty,_ "—gorgeous." Sherlock took a few long strides to meet her. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on the back of it.

"Handsome, as always," Molly told him with a sparkle in her chocolate eyes. Her heart was racing as it really sunk in that this was actually happening. She was about to go out on a real date with Sherlock; one that she was aware of at least.

"Shall we?" Sherlock asked, offering his arm to her. She gave him a bright smile before threading her arm through his. After locking up, they continued to make their way out of her building. A black car was waiting outside for them.

"Isn't that one of Mycroft's cars that he usually sends for you?" Molly asked, worried that Sherlock would have to be pulled away from their date.

"Yep," he replied. "Mycroft owed me a favor." Sherlock threw a quick wink at her before opening the backseat door for her. After Molly stepped inside and was seated, he closed her door before he came in from the other side. The driver seemed to already know the address of their destination as he already began to drive.

"Any chance you'll tell me where we're going?" Molly pried.

"Not a chance, darling," Sherlock flashed a grin. She playfully rolled her eyes at him. He was still nervous, but felt immediately calmed by Molly's presence. She had a way of making him feel better just by being within the same vicinity as him. John's words rang in his mind. Molly slid her hand over to lie on top of his, lacing their fingers together. He looked up at her in surprise and she gave his hand a firm, reassuring squeeze. That's when they both began to relax.

The car pulled up in front of a large, lit up building that Molly held no recognition of. Sherlock stepped out and around to open her door. She placed her hand in his as he led her inside. There were couples and friends dancing all around. There was a small bar and an eating area. Sherlock had essentially taken her to a classier version of a dance club. Instead of the usually crude scene that she always avoided, it was more like a fairytale setting with ballroom dancing. The music being played ranged from instrumental pieces to modern songs.

"What do you think?" Sherlock asked. Molly looked up at him, their eyes connecting. "Care to dance?"

"I'd love to," Molly replied sweetly. He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist as she placed a hand on his shoulder. Their remaining hands intertwined. Soon, their feet began to move in synchronization. Sherlock's eyes lit up in surprise at Molly's footwork.

"I always miss something," he muttered with a short laugh.

"What would that be?" Molly asked.

"I never deduced that you were a dancer," Sherlock smiled, spinning her around.

"I wouldn't call myself a dancer per se," Molly blushed. "I took lessons when I was younger but when my dad became sick, I quit. I lost the passion for it. I was seventeen." She felt herself rambling but noted that Sherlock was genuinely interested.

"He'd be proud of you," Sherlock offered in an attempt to cheer her up.

"You really think so?" Molly questioned.

"I know for a fact," Sherlock assured her. A comfortable silence washed over them as they continued to dance to the crooning voice of Michael Bublé. Molly laid her head against his shoulder, their feet gliding across the floor. He held her closer to him, his eyes glancing down at the beautiful woman he loved so much. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Sherlock was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt the lightest brush of her lips against his throat. The song ended and another began.

"Sherlock?" Molly spoke softly as she lifted her head and looked into his eyes.

"Hmm?" Sherlock answered.

"Thank you," she told him simply.

"For what? Tonight?" he asked.

"Well, tonight and everything else you've done for me. I know I've been difficult lately," Molly trailed off.

"No need to thank me, Molly Hooper. You deserve it," Sherlock told her. "You haven't been difficult at all. I know you have doubts, but Molly, I promise, I'm not going anywhere. If it takes the rest of my life to prove it to you, so be it. I don't want you to feel scared of me. I want to make you happy."

"I'm not scared of you," Molly spoke, her voice thick with emotion due to being choked up at his loving words. "You make me feel safe." She took a deep breath and leaned up to whisper in his ear. "And I trust you with my life…and now, my heart." As they continued to move across the floor together, Molly looked up at him once more to meet his crystalline eyes. She was prepared to drown in them for the rest of her life. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes. Always have and always will." No warning came when he suddenly lifted her off the ground and spun her around. The tinkling of her light-hearted laughter made his heart skip a beat.

"And I love you, Molly Hooper," Sherlock said, giving her a bright, genuine smile. He kissed her cheek firmly. He noticed her quick glance towards a waitress carrying a tray of food. "Hungry?"

"Starving," Molly exaggerated.

* * *

They had just ordered their food and fell into a playful conversation as they waited.

"I said I was sorry, Molly," Sherlock told her, fighting off the flush of his face.

"Sherlock," Molly laughed, "just admit you ended up being jealous of yourself at the Christmas party." The smile that graced her lips was all it took for him to crack.

"Alright, maybe I was a bit jealous," Sherlock admitted with a short chuckle.

"Did you ever open it? The gift?" Molly asked with curiosity.

"Honestly? No, I—I felt unworthy to do so after what I had said to you. I still have it, of course. It's taken all my strength to not deduce it," Sherlock smiled sheepishly.

"Open it tonight when you go home," Molly told him. "Promise me?"

"I promise," Sherlock said, his rich baritone voice sending shivers up Molly's spine in the best way. He seemed to notice and mistook it for temperature decline. Sherlock slipped off his suit jacket and stood to put it around her shoulders.

"Thanks," Molly spoke quietly. "Good thing that pesky anxiety is gone, huh?" Sherlock looked alarmed, realizing she had, indeed, noticed his behavior earlier in the evening. "Don't worry. I was pretty nervous too." This admission seemed to calm him. Their food arrived then and they ate in companionable silence for a bit, stealing flirty glances at one another. Having known each other for years, they learned to speak with their eyes, but there were messages of love now instead of the usual work-related questioning.

"Any interesting autopsies, lately?" Sherlock asked. Normally, a question such as this would be deemed a bit not good during dinner had it not been Molly he was asking.

"Not really. I had a statistician on the slab. He died from a heart attack. Well, I told Mike that statisticians don't die; they get broken down by age and gender," Molly laughed. Sherlock joined in, finding her awful pun quite funny. She let out a snort as she laughed and quickly covered her mouth. He noticed her discomfort.

"I love your laugh," Sherlock told her, bringing her fingers to his lips.

"Sorry, I mean, well, I just kind of snort sometimes," Molly stammered.

"It is most endearing," Sherlock assured her, taking a bite of his food.

* * *

The instrumental piece that played once Sherlock led Molly back to the dance floor is what they both recognized as a tango. It started off slow and their feet moved accordingly. He blinked in surprise as Molly wrapped her left foot behind his right ankle and brought it back to the floor. She hadn't been lying when she said she took dance lessons. The music progressed faster then, and the two of them glided along the floor connecting in the language of dance. She met every twist and turn with her feet and hips. If you didn't know any better, it would be easy to assume they had been dance partners for years.

Sherlock wondered just how much of the tango Molly knew or if she only dabbled in it. His silent question was answered when her right leg was wrapped around his waist loosely, her left foot sliding across the floor as he moved her. She brought her leg down slowly, causing Sherlock's breath to hitch. Bringing her in close again, feeling the mingling of their breath, he took hold of the small of her back. Molly, knowing where he was leading her, dipped backwards as he lightly swayed her in a semi-circle before pulling her back up once more.

The song began to fade and Molly pressed her lips against his firmly, encouraging him to part his. Sherlock reciprocated once he quickly processed the fact that Molly was snogging him. He tugged on her bottom lip gently with his teeth. Their lips continued to brush against each other, tongues tangling every now and then. Neither of them cared that they were in public; they had both waited much too long for a moment like this. Sherlock drew his index finger down the side of her waist and she laughed against his mouth.

"Molly," Sherlock breathed out when she broke the kiss. He repeated the action of skimming his finger along the seam of the dress and she let out another laugh.

"Sherlock, stop," Molly giggled, "that tickles."

"You're ticklish," Sherlock smiled in amusement. "Hmm."

"Oh, no you don't," Molly warned. She reached out to tickle his sides, but there was no effect. "That's so not fair." Sherlock laughed at her attempt.

"Guess you'll never find out," he murmured as he kissed her neck.

"I will," Molly spoke breathily. "I'll find out one day and then I'll have my revenge on you."

"I look forward to it," Sherlock smirked.

* * *

In the hallway, outside of Molly's flat is where they stood in typical post-first date (technically third) fashion.

"I had a lovely time," Molly smiled affectionately.

"As did I," Sherlock told her. "Thank you for coming out with me." He pressed his lips ever so gently against hers. "I love you." It was whispered against her lips.

"I love you too," Molly replied, giving him one more kiss."Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Sherlock smiled before turning away.

"Oh, and Sherlock?" Molly called out.

"Yes?" he asked, turning to face her.

"We're in a relationship now, you know, in case it wasn't obvious," Molly said with a wink before disappearing inside her flat. The night really had gone perfectly, much to Sherlock's satisfaction.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm not sure if I should continue the story because, though I want to, the end goal has been reached and I'm afraid of dragging it out too much. What do y'all think?


	7. The Game Is Never Over

**Author's Note:** This epilogue of sorts turned out to be way longer than I had planned but I hope it's nice to see a look into their established relationship. Thanks so much y'all for reading and reviewing. Thanks again to writingwife-83 for allowing me to adopt her prompt lol. Until next time :)

* * *

Sherlock had a skip in his step as he reentered 221B. John had left after Sherlock was well on his way to Molly's. He stepped inside his bedroom and opened up the bottom drawer of his dresser, digging through the clothes he rarely wore to uncover Molly's gift from five years back. Carefully undoing the ribbon and wrapping paper, it revealed a small keepsake box of sorts. He lifted the lid to find a worn paperback book, a disc in a jewel case flipped over backwards and a letter on top. He opened the letter first, finding the need to read Molly's words and hear her voice in his head.

 _Dearest Sherlock,_

 _Though you claim to be above sentiment, I don't wholeheartedly believe that's true. I know you secretly appreciate sentimental things. At least that's what I personally deduced about you seeing the items scattered across your flat each time I brought body parts for you._

 _Anyways, I'm rambling, so here, have a box full of sentiment…my sentiment. The book is the first in a trilogy that I adore. It reminds me of us a bit. Okay, a lot but if you do enjoy the first book, I'll be more than happy to hand over the other two. I have another set, so it's okay. The other gift you'll find is a CD full of music. As to what it pertains to, you'll see when you flip it over to read the inscription._

 _And for another dash of sentimentality, do you remember the first time we met? Everyone had warned me about you as I was new and replaced the old head pathologist. From the snippets I processed from their warnings, it all seemed to come down to one thing: they didn't think you to be "normal." Well, I had told them that normal was overrated and terribly boring. Meeting you, I was, for lack of a better word, enchanted. The things that made you different are the things I found most charming about you. Anyways…_

 _Merry Christmas,_

 _Molly xxx_

Sherlock smiled to himself. He never knew that that was how Molly felt even before they met. He turned the disc over and read the inscription.

 _I love you, but I'm not good with words._

 _Things I never said._

She loved him even then and it grew throughout the years into something deeper. The difference between love and being in love came to his mind. The book was revealed to be _Clockwork Angel_ by Cassandra Clare. It was obviously her personal copy, little sticky tabs poking out every which way. Flipping through the pages to give it a glance over, he found her annotations in the margins, sometimes accompanied by a doodle. It was an incredibly personal gift and he mentally praised her bravery. His phone pinged then.

 **Did you open it yet? MH**

 **Yes. SH**

 **And? MH**

 **I love it. I love you. SH**

 **I'm glad. I love you too, Sherlock. MH**

* * *

A month later, Molly was tugging on her rubber gloves, preparing for an autopsy. Greg had just given her the run-down of what had happened; or supposedly happened. Sherlock was supposed to arrive any moment now. Molly flicked her eyes over every corner of the room before speaking.

"Pssst, Greg, do you have any tens?" Molly asked, referring to Sherlock's rating system for cases, but it went right over the detective inspector's head.

"Eh…go fish?" Greg shrugged. Molly closed her lips tightly in an attempt to keep herself from bursting out with laughter.

"I was talking about cases," Molly explained. "Do you have any that Sherlock would consider a ten?"

"No, sorry. Why? Is he bored already?" Greg chuckled.

"No, I was just trying to do something special for him," Molly sighed. "Oh well, I'll think of something."

"Lestrade," Sherlock nodded as he flew into the morgue. "Molly," he smiled, caressing her name on his lips as if it only contained the best letters in the alphabet. With a chaste kiss pressed against her cheek, they began to work together, throwing observations at one another until the cause of death and the man's associations were revealed.

* * *

"So you've got everything?" John asked Sherlock.

"Yes, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of Rosie while you're on your double shift," Sherlock insisted. John raised an eyebrow.

"Don't worry, I'll keep him in line," Molly smirked.

"Don't you always?" Sherlock asked, flashing a smile at her. John left for work, leaving the godparents to it. Molly held Rosie in her arms, cooing at her.

"We'll make sure Uncle Sherlock stays out of trouble, yes we will," Molly told Rosie in her baby voice. Sherlock was too awestruck to be annoyed at the remark. Seeing the woman he loves handle Rosie with such care with her natural motherly instincts warmed him. He knew then that one day, he wanted a family with Molly. He could see a little girl with Molly's hair color but in curls and her eyes or even his.

"Sherlock? Did you hear me?" Molly asked.

"Hmm?" he muttered, snapping back to reality.

"I said, why don't we go out for ice cream?" Molly reiterated.

"Sounds wonderful," Sherlock agreed.

"Uncle Sherlock's silly, isn't he?" Molly laughed. With a kiss to her temple, he took her hand in his as they left for the ice cream shoppe.

Sherlock had Rosie in his lap as he fed her the creamy vanilla ice cream.

"Mmm," Rosie hummed in delight with every bite. Molly was enjoying a cup of mint chocolate chip. She couldn't help but think that Sherlock would be such a wonderful father. Her heart jumped at the idea and she knew then that she wanted a family with him.

"Isn't your Aunt Molly beautiful?" Sherlock asked Rosie, gaining a loving smile from his girlfriend.

* * *

It didn't take too long before Molly figured out exactly what she wanted to do for Sherlock. It was more of a sentimental route, but she knew he'd appreciate it, as he had grown into his emotions. She had left him a heart in his refrigerator from an autopsy that she performed a couple days ago. When the consulting detective opened the door, he discovered the heart for his experiment with a sticky note on either side of it. _I love you_ is what it essentially said. Their shared morbid sense of humor made it all that more personal.

Friday rolled around and Sherlock was surprised to find Molly at his door.

"What happened to work?" he asked her.

"Traded shifts so I could have the day off," Molly smiled, biting her lip.

"So, what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Sherlock smirked.

"Here," Molly said, thrusting a rolled up paper into his hands. He unrolled it, revealing a map of various landmarks. She had drawn it herself, symbols depicting each different area.

"What is the significance of these places?" Sherlock questioned.

"Well, you see, that's for me to know and you to find out," Molly teased.

"Consider me intrigued," Sherlock replied. "I take it that 'X' marks the spot where there's buried treasure?"

"Figuratively," Molly laughed. "So, are you up for an adventure? I bet it'll be a ten in your book."

"Then what are we waiting for?" he asked, throwing on his Belstaff and scarf. "The game is on."

* * *

Their first stop was Bart's Hospital, where Molly had only written the word 'hello' on the map. They traveled to the currently empty morgue.

"This is where we first met," she told him. "A bit morbid, I know. Loads of other things happened between us here at Bart's." Her tinkling laugh filled the room.

"I remember," Sherlock mused. "You were the first person at this hospital to treat me so kindly. The only person."

"Remember the day after, you were waiting outside of those doors and I was rushing down the hallway because I was late," Molly reminisced.

"Yes, I recall that you ran right into me." Sherlock chuckled. "And then promptly fell down." He laughed once more.

"But you helped me up and made sure I was okay," Molly smiled. "That was the day my crush began."

"I'm always learning something new about you," Sherlock smiled in return.

* * *

"So, all of these places have sentimental value, I take it," Sherlock deduced.

"Mhmm," Molly confirmed, walking hand in hand with him. They went inside a building and Sherlock took in the familiarity of this particular stairwell.

"The day I took you out to solve crimes," Sherlock pointed out.

"Our first date, according to you," Molly laughed. "That day, you said things to me that indicated you thought of me as more than a friend."

"Experienced my first heartbreak here," Sherlock told her. "It wasn't fun but I wanted you to be happy."

"I wasn't; not really. If you had come back six months later than you did, I'd be in a loveless marriage right now. Well, maybe not loveless but I knew I wasn't in love. I was settling," Molly explained. "You made me realize that when you came back."

"How so?" he asked.

"When you went to kiss my cheek, all I wanted to do was turn just enough to kiss you properly," Molly admitted.

"Why don't we have a second go at it?" Sherlock smiled. And then he was leaning into her, pressing his lips against hers. He pulled away after a moment and spoke again. "Kiss me the way you wanted to then." That was all Molly needed. She tugged at the lapels of his coat and captured his lips in a most passionate kiss. It was gentle and hard at the same time. It was, in a word, illogical. Beautifully illogical. His fingers found the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her closer, unable to get enough of her. They broke the kiss and leaned their foreheads against one another. The silence was broken by a familiar voice.

"Sherlock Holmes?" Howard Shilcott questioned in disbelief.

"Ah, Mr. Shilcott," Sherlock greeted, pulling his face away from Molly's.

"Miss Hooper," Howard nodded. "I knew there was something between you two. Congratulations." And with that, he stalked off onto the streets of London, leaving Molly and Sherlock to their fit of laughter.

* * *

They stopped at her flat, where Sherlock was supposed to search for a note. He found it stuck to her bedroom door, where he used it as a bolt hole. The words written on it only said,

 _Home is_ …

The mystery was solved when they arrived at their last stop where 'X' marked the spot: 221B Baker Street. There, Molly handed him the other note that she had kept in her pocket the whole time.

 _…Where you are._

"Molly," Sherlock whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted to—" Molly began before being cut off with a kiss.

"Yes," Sherlock told her.

"Do you even know what I was going to ask?" Molly laughed.

"Yes, I want you to move in with me," Sherlock smiled. She should've known he would have deduced it.

"I love you," Molly told him, placing a hand against the side of his face. He snogged her senselessly all the way to his bedroom, now theirs, laughing against each other's lips in a moment of pure bliss.


End file.
